


An Arrow Through My Bleeding Heart

by sunfirestrike



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Supernatural, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Reader's Mom is a BAMF, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, this is gonna be a long one!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6367207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfirestrike/pseuds/sunfirestrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’ve been wondering who your father is since you were a little girl and your mother was slaughtered by demons. You never really cared though, you always figured he either didn’t know about you, or he was dead, or he just didn’t want you which was fine. But after a recent hunt with your adoptive brothers you begin to wonder who really is your birth father.</p><p> </p><p>UNFINISHED AND DISCONTINUED!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wonderment

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is more of a prologue, but I've already started working on the second part!

You sigh leaning against the hood of your brother's impala the cool night breeze nipping at your skin. Your head was in turmoil, the latest hunt you had been on had brought up a feeling you were hoping to never have, wonderment. Your father had always been a mystery to you, one that you didn't care to figure out, but after holding the sweet, innocent girl in your arms as she died talking abut the things she will always regret, she said the thing she regretted most was never knowing who her father was, and it made you begin to wonder if you could die forever without knowing who he was, what he was like, what he did for a living, how much like him you were, and you didn't think you could bare wondering anymore. So, you enlisted Cas to help you. If it were any other situation, you would have gone to your brothers, but you had a feeling that they would take you wanting to find your father in a way that said they weren't enough family for you, and that was the last thing you wanted.

A flutter of wings is heard towards the grill of the car, your head shoots up to look at the blue eyed angel standing in front of you. Your heart starts to pound against your rib cage, a slip of paper is held in the angel's hands, and he looks a little apprehensive about giving it to you, his eyes are frantic, searching for something to say to you, finally settling on.

“Are you sure about this?” You nod your head, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I have to know Cas, if he hates me, he hates me, I can't do anything about that, but I can't spend my whole life not knowing who he is. I've already lost my mom, and John, but at least I knew them.” Your reasoning seems to sway him, and he hands you the piece of paper.

“Alright, I just don't want to see you get hurt.” A trill of laughter leaves your lips.

“I promise I won't get hurt, he doesn't mean that much to me, I just gotta know, you know?” Cas gives you a weary nod, he had offend wondered what his own father was like, and why he decided to leave. If he had that chance to meet him, and get to know his father he knows he would take it. “Just promise me you won't tell my brothers.”

“Wh-”

“Promise.” You glare at him. He sighs in defeat, running a hand over his face.

“I promise, just don't do anything stupid, or Winchester-like.” He tells you. You raise three fingers in the air.

“Scout's honor!”

The day is bright, and happy with birds chirping, and the sun shining down on your face, it had rained the previous night, so there is the fresh smell of rain in the air, and you can't help but take a deep breath, smiling as you load your stuff into your old, red pick up truck. You had told your brothers that you were heading to Starling City to help out a few hunting buddies that you had made when one of them was dead, and the other wasn't answering their phone. They had tried to get you to let them come along, but you insisted that they stay here saying that it was an easy hunt and it would be more of a vacation, and that you needed some time to yourself. The had agreed on the condition that you would call them every other day, which you had deemed reasonable. You sigh as you close your truck door, turning and waving at your brothers and Cas through the window. You blast the radio, finally being able to listen to your music that Dean insisted was terrible, it was one of the reasons you had gotten your own car. You tried not to put to much weight in your thoughts, but in the back of your head you knew that meeting your father would forever change your life. But the question is for better, or for worse?


	2. Enlightenment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You arrive in Starling City, and finally meet your father, but you appear to have caught the attention of a certain vigilante who wears a green hood...

Once in Starling City you quickly find a motel that is relatively close to the address and get settled in. Now, for the difficult part, trying to come up with a way to introduce yourself. Tell him when you first meet him? Maybe. At the end of the night? Nah. Casually slip it into the conversation? Possibly. How would you phrase it? Bluntly? Sure, shows that you’re serious. Sighing, you flop down onto the creaky bed that was sure to make your back hurt. You would just have to cross that bridge when you got to it, if you ever got over the butterflies in your stomach, if you didn’t care, then why were you so nervous about what he would think of you?

You rummage through your duffel bag, searching for a nice enough looking out fit. Gotta dress to impress, you pulled out a nice white shirt that flared out at the bottom, and had black lace along the neckline, and a pair of black leggings, with a nice pair of black heels to go with it. You smooth out your shirt, a nervous tick of yours making it’s appearance. Giving yourself an inner pep talk, you grab your bag and head out the door. You plug the address into your GPS, and take deep breaths all the way there.

As you ride the elevator up your hands begin to sweat, and your heart starts beating faster. When you reach his door and raise your hand to knock, you freeze. Every option of what could go wrong is running through your mind, and you have to take a step back and shake your head, before deciding to bite the bullet, and quickly knock before you loose your nerve. A muffled “Just a minute!” Can be heard somewhere on the other side of the door, and your breathing begins to speed up. You hear the door handle turning and steel yourself, a nice looking man answers the door, around his mid to late forties, a reseeding hair line, a friendly smile, and kind brown eyes. He holds himself with an air of authority, he probably has something to do with the military, or the police, you think to yourself.

“Can I help you?” His voice is gruff, but still sounds like something the could hold so many kind words in it. You stare at him for a second, before shaking your head and coming out of your trance.

“Uh, yes. Are you Quentin Lance?” You voice is shaking a little, and you can tell you’ve put him on edge a bit. He looks you up and down, almost as if assessing of whether or not you’re a threat.

“I am,” You let out a sigh, you had found him. Now, to tell him gracefully.

“I know you don’t know me, but I have been trying to think up a better way of saying this all day and I haven’t found one, so I’m just going to come out and say it. My name is (Y/N) Winchester My mother is (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), and I believe around 26 years ago you knew her. So, long story short, I’m your daughter.” Comes rushing out of your mouth. He stares blankly at you for a minute, taking all the information in, while you wait with baited breath.

“Why don’t we talk about this over dinner, dear?” You let out a breath of relief, he seems to be taking this rather well.

“That sounds wonderful, all I had on the drive here was terrible fast food,” You both let out a breathy laugh, that sounds remarkably similar. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He takes you to a little diner in China Town, while waiting for your food, you both agree to start asking questions. You let him ask you first, saying that he’s the one who just got a daughter he didn’t know about. But he insists that you ask him, he said

“You’ve been waiting your whole life to know who your father is, I’ve been waiting 20 minutes, so go on, ask me anything.”

“Alright, hmm, What do you do for a living?” You ask, taking a sip of your tea.

“I’m a detective for the Starling City Police Department.” Ah, so you had been right about that. “You?”

“Oh, I’m a freelance mechanic, I travel all over America with my brothers.” You tell him while taking another sip of your tea.

“Brothers?” He asks with a raise of is eyebrows. You nod your head.

“Mhmm, I’m adopted, I have two big brothers, Dean’s the oldest, and Sam’s the middle child.”

“Ah, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to (Y/M/N)?” You stare down into your mug of tea, averting your gaze from his.

“She, uh, she was murdered when I was 6.” His shocked expression is enough to tell you he wasn’t expecting that.

“I’m sorr-”

“It’s fine,” You cut him off “I’ve had 20 years of people saying sorry to me, I don’t need anymore,” He nods his head, something tells you he can relate to having people apologize about things that had nothing to do with them. “But, if you don’t mind, I do have a few questions about her..” He gives you a half smile, his eyes have wisps of pain swirling in them, but there are somethings you just need to know.

“Shoot,” You stare into your cup of tea, the steam billowing into your face.

“W-What was she like?” This question is one that has often plagued your mind, Sam and Dean had john to tell them what their mother was like, how she used to tuck them into bed, and sing ‘Hey, Jude’ to them when they had dreams about the monsters that they would one day hunt. How she would cook a large Sunday breakfast for the whole family, and how she used to let Dean crack the eggs when ever she made brownies. They had at least some clue of what their mother was like, where as you only have what you remember. Which wasn’t much, a few bits and pieces of the scattered memories of a child, a snowman with a pink hat, and raspberries for eyes. A warm loving embrace followed by a visit from the tickle monster. But there was one that was always the most prominent, it was a memory, but also a dream. You’re standing in a shooting range, holding a gun that far to big for your tiny hands, but much to small in your mothers. Your mother comes up behind you, straightening your arms, and pulling your feet apart. She steps back examining your stance, she seems satisfied because she motions for you to go ahead. You take a deep breath, focusing on the target, picturing in your mind that the hanging target is a monster trying to hurt your mother, you hesitate another moment before taking the shot, you hit the target square in the chest. You turn toward your mother a large grin on your face. She smiles down at you, clapping a hand on your back as a squeal leaves her lips. You can see the way her eyes are crinkled at the corners because her smile is so big.

“That was wonderful, kiddo! Now, lets go get some ice-cream!” You can barely contain your giggle of join, then a week later, you saw the same eyes that had been so sparkling, filled with fear, as she told you to go hide in a cabinet, You couldn’t believe that the same eyes that once shined with hope, were now wide open in terror, a foggy look in them, as a scream that was silenced hung from her lips.

The huff that leaves your father’s lips brings you back to reality. A small smile is placed on his lips, as he concentrates on his mug of tea, a look in his eyes that says he is remembering someone’s smile, and you have to hope it’s hers.

“She was something else, a real spitfire,” He looks up at you with a certain fondness, “She didn’t take anyone’s shit, and it seems you’ve inherited that trait,” a smile forms on your face, you always wondered just how much you were like your mother. Turns out you had a lot more wonderment in your life than you had thought.

“She was the kind of person to take chances, the kind of person you meet and you instantly trust them with your life. Those people can be dangerous, and Lord knows she was.” His tone becomes serious for a second, the smile washed from his features, before it’s comes back again in full force when he shakes his head to clear it of those dark thoughts. “But, she was also the type of person who you can stay up past 2 AM talking to on the phone even though you have work in the morning and know you’re going to regret not getting any sleep, but you keep talking to them anyways cause everything that comes out of their mouth makes your chest hurt with joy. She was the type of person who loved terrible, and I mean terrible puns, I swear she once laughed for five straight minutes when we were making dinner, and I was grating cheese and said 'I know it’s cheesy, but I feel grate’ I kid you not, she lost it!”

By this time you were hunched over laughing, and as was he. Your food came soon after that, you spent the rest of the night talking about anything and everything, from where you grew up, what his childhood was like, and funny stories about your mother, and by the end of it all you’re setting up another time to meet him in a month, and you couldn’t be more happy.

As you’re getting up to leave a news story regarding the Starling City vigilante comes on the TV that was suspended high in a corner of the diner, the Arrow, you had learned he was called from your father. Apparently, his now second oldest daughter Laurel, is trying to take him down. You had lost your breath when you learned you had sisters, his voice cracks a little when he says Sara’s name, and you have a feeling she’s the reason he’s heard so many apologies in his life. You hug him when you reach the street, and part ways. But, little did you know you had caught the attention of Oliver Queen A.K.A The Arrow, as he saw you walking to your truck when you left the little china town restaurant where he had spotted Detective Lance hugging a strange women. And he was going to find out just who you were, and if you were a threat to his city, or his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do y'all want the reader to be paired with someone? If so drop it in the comments below! Youcan also find this story on my tumblr @an-asexual-trying-2-write !


	3. A/N

Hey Angels, unfortunately “An Arrow Through My Bleeding Heart Pt. 3″ Will be a late because I have a lot of projects that I have to work on for finals. So, I have to put my writing on hold as much as I don’t want to. But, I only have a few weeks of school left, and then I’ll be free of school and I’ll have all the time in the world to work on my stories!


	4. Dinner with the Pop!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally tell your brothers about your father,and how you want them to meet him...

Over the next three months you continued to have dinner with your father at the same little Chinese diner. Your brothers had noticed you disappearing more than once without reason, but then Cas would swoop in with a half baked answer that he had cooked up in his head on the fly and save your ass from being found out. Each time you came back fro visiting your father, you had the biggest smile on your face, and you seemed… Happy. That was something the boys and Cas hadn’t seen for a while. That was the main reason Cas kept covering for you, because seeing that look on your face made it all worth it, but it was getting hard to keep them in the dark, and they were starting to wonder themselves just why you were always so happy when you came back. Dean thought you had a one night stand. Sam thought you had a boyfriend. Each time Cas heard their theories of what was making you glow like that, he simply sighed and rolled his eyes. Oh, if only they knew.

Which brings you to where you were now. Leaning against the hood of your truck enjoying the smell of the Kansas wildflowers, as the wind carries their scent to threw the air. Cas has asked you to talk while your brothers were out of the bunker, and you had a pretty good idea on what he wanted to talk about.

The tell-tale flutter of wings signals his arrival. A sigh leaves your lips as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I know why you’re here Cas. And I have to say; I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure.” He stares at you, forming an answer in his head.

“I know this is difficult for you, but it’s getting hard to cover for you. The Winchester’s are starting to notice, they are asking questions…” he pauses, thinking over what he’s about to say next, “… And I think they have a right to know.” You heave a heavy sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. Deep down you knew he was right, you knew that you would one day have to let them in on your little secret, you were just hoping it would be later rather than sooner. You honestly have no idea how they would react, you just hope they they are happy for you. You rub a hand over your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Fine, I’ll tell them tomorrow. I’m gonna head to bed, I’m gonna need a good night’s sleep if I’m possibly go through hell again in the morning.”

Dawn’s light comes all to soon for your liking, grumbling as you trudge out of bed and into the kitchen to make yourself a bowl of cereal. Soon following after your lead of getting out of bed, is Sam. His hair fluffed up from sleep, he comes stumbling in from the hallway, his eyes still fogged up with sleep, his slippers scuffing on the floor. He opens the fridge, grabs the fresh carton of eggs, and starts heating up the frying pan to make scrambled eggs for him and Dean.

You finish off your bowl of cereal, deciding it might be best to do this on a nearly empty stomach, and grab the bag of coffee beans from the top left cupboard to start the pot of coffee that would be mostly drunk by Dean, the amount of caffeine that man needed to properly function was astounding.

The last to come mopping in is Dean, still in his bathrobe, with his eyes half closed, as he staggers over to the cupboard where you keep all the mugs, and grabs a large coffee cup. To then blindly reach for the pot of scalding hot coffee, this always made you cringe in fear for his safety, how he hadn’t burned his hand of yet, you’ll never know.

Sam puts down to plates of eggs on the table, he goes to make a third for you, but your shake your head at him, telling him you’re not that hungry. Mornings like this is what make being a Hunter all worth it. Your heart clenches at the thought of all this being destroyed because of their reaction to you meeting your father. You stare at them for a few minutes, considering your options, and trying to work up the courage to actually tell them. You’ve been silent for quite sometime, and your brothers sure as Hell have noticed. They give each other a sidewards glance, as you play with your hands, while opening and closing your mouth like someone was taking the words away from your lips. A weighted sigh leaves your lips, your shoulders sagging in defeat. You don’t know how to tell them. Dean seems to have had enough of your dilly-daddling.

“Alright, come on, spit it out already,” You glance up at him in surprise. He gives you an exasperated look, rolling his eyes at you. “Oh, come on, something is obviously eating you up, so tell us already.”

“Well, as you have probably realized, I’ve been leaving the bunker more often as of late,” A knowing look passes between Sam and Dean. Your eyebrows knit up in confusion, but you continue anyway.

“I have been doing this because-”

“You got a boyfriend!”

“You got a booty call!” Is shouted at the same time. Causing you to choke on the breath you had taken. Sputtering, and coughing, you shake your hand in front of your face, signaling that, no. They are not even close. Recovering for your little fit, you continue from where you left off.

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend, or booty call. I actually, now this might come as quite a shock, but please keep in mind that I wouldn’t have done this if it didn’t mean anything to me, I-I met my father.”

They clearing are expecting this, the furrowed brows, and the signature Winchester smirk is no where in sight. You expected you heart to be pounding in your ears, but for once, it is strangely quite, it might have even stopped completely. They seem to be processing this new, and uncalled for information. They seem more surprised than anything, after all, you always said you didn’t care who your father was. But then they thought back to the girl who had died in your arms a few months ago. How your eyes seemed different after that hunt, they had so many unanswered questions in them, how you were sort of distance for a few days after that. Then how you weren’t on that trip to Starling City, and when you came back, how your eyes had been put back together from the pieces of broken glass that they were, how they shined with a new found hope for the world. And how the smile on your face seemed like it would never go away. He made you happy. That’s all they needed to know about your father. As long as he made you happy.

Sam is the first to speak after that. You let out the breath you had been holding for so long you thought your lungs were going to burst.

“So, what’s he like?” They seem to be accepting this news with caution, but their curious eyes tell you they have a lot of questions for you. And your ready to answer them.

“He’s great. He’s a detective at the S.C.P.D. He’s got two other daughters, Laurel and Sara, I’m actually his oldest now,” Dean’s eyebrows perk up at the mention of your sisters, “And, no, Dean. You can’t hit on my sisters, that’s just plain weird.” He gives you a betrayed look, as Sam glares at him accusingly, which makes you burst out laughing. This wasn’t so bad after all. “And, I would like for you to meet him the next time I go to Starling City.”

It’s about two weeks later the next time you head to Starling, this time in the Impala. Quentin had suggested you have dinner at his apartment, instead of the little China Town diner. When you told him about you wanting to meet your brothers, he was ecstatic, if not a little nervous. But, still he wanted to meet the boys you spoke so highly of. Told hi stories of how you had grown up, living on the road and seeing sights you could only dream of. The late nights, when Bobby would let you stay up past your bed tie to watch the stars and catch fireflies in old mason jars. The hot afternoons of playing tag in the open fields outside of his house. And how you taught the boys to skip stones on the little stream that ran through the little strip of woods in his backyard that seemed like a rain forest to your little child mind.

Your mind is racing through a checklist that you needed to make sure the boys followed. Your back story, what you did for a living, absolutely, under no circumstances, do you bring up the hunting life, or your shins will have Hell to pay if you messed this dinner up!

Before knocking on his door you turn around looking the boys over, and make needless changes and fix ups to their clothes and hair. You were more nervous than they were! Sam seems to notice just how bad your nerves are, while your fixing his hair and they start shaking. He slowly removes your hands from his hair, holding the in his own to make you calm down.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), this dinner will be wonderful. We’ll all get along great, he’ll love us, and we’ll love him, because it’s important to our little sister. Isn’t that right Dean?” He gives Dean a hard glare, telling him to agree with him, and no funny business!

Dean lays a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course, Sammy.” The door swings open without warning, your father standing there with a large smile on his face, and oven mitts on his hands.

“I thought I heard voices!” A smile breaks out on your face, as you move to hug your father.

“Dad,” You wrap your arms around him, before letting go to introduce him to your brothers, but still keeping an arm around his waist, and does he. “dad, this is Sam,” You say pointing to your taller brother, “and this is Dean.” Gesturing to your oldest brother. Quentin takes off one of his oven mitts and moves to shake their hands.

“It really is nice to meet you, (Y/N) Has told me so much about you, I feel as though I already know you!” Your brother’s smile at him, Sam seems fine with him, although Dean seems a bit skeptic of him. There are a few awkward moments of standing out in the hallway assessing each other.

“Well, uh, what are we doing just standing out here, dinner’s hot out of the oven, and the cherry pie is cooling!” Your father tries to diffuse the tension in the atmosphere. Dean’s eyes light up at the mention of his favorite thing in the world other than the Impala.

“Pie, you say?” You knew Dean had been won over by your father.

“Yep, grandma Lance’s recipe.”

“Well, let’s hope (Y/N/N) didn’t inherit her cooking skills from you, or else I’ll be scared the building will burn down.”

“That was one time, Dean!”


	5. Meet The Family! (God help!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has finally come for you to meet Quentin's family, but will they all be accepting of you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really think this is my best writing, but I'm sure you guys are tired of waiting so...
> 
> Side note: I promise reader and Laurel will learn to get along in time, maybe even the next chapter... (Hehehe)

Your visits to your father have increased to two times a month. You bring your brothers along every once in a while. Quentin loves them, and they love him. Dean’s always asking for leftovers of the pie, and swapping recipes with your father. Quentin and Sam talk about the cases he’s working on, with Sam being pre-law, he can sort of prepare Quentin for cross-examination, and what kind of questions the defense will ask, and how to shoot them down.

But, the time has come for you to meet his family. You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, as a matter of fact you don’t think you’ve ever been the nervous in your life. You heart is beating out of your chest, your palms are sweaty, and you feel nauseous just thinking about meeting them.

Quentin tells you he’s planing on having a family dinner, and he wants you to finally meet your sisters.

Quentin sets the table dinner already out and ready. Everyone sits down except for you, as you are waiting outside his door for him to come and get you. God, you might actually throw up!

Meanwhile, Quentin was thinking of how to come around to the topic of introducing his daughter to his daughters, and ex-wife! Dear God, you might be the only one who throws up tonight! Clearing his throat, and holding his hands together, he starts in what he hopes is the best way possible.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I asked you all to be here. Well, I-I want to introduce you to someone special in my life, that’s why there is an extra setting in the table, for her. Now, in the months I’ve known her, she has grown very special to me, and I hope you will accept her with open arms.” A knock sounds on the door, making all of them turn their heads to it. “Ah, that should be her now.”

He goes to open the door, to find you, with a slightly green looking face. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and guides you to the living room, a bright smile on his face, and a small nervous one on yours, receiving almost predatory stares in return. He senses you uneasiness and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Everyone, I would like you to meet my daughter, (Y/N),” You can practically see the cogs turning in their hands, as their eyes go wide with shock. Hoping to diffuse the rising tension in the room, you give them a small, meek wave. Dinah seems to be the most welcoming, as her eyes are not full of suspicion as Laurel’s are. She seems to be more shocked than any thing else, which is good, you hope.

Sara seems to be more confused, which is to be expected, but not hostile, thank God. They are all processing the information, but you think you might have found a friend, maybe even sister in Sara

Laurel, yeesh, Laurel didn’t seem to be taking the news to well, like, at all. Her eyes are narrowed, her lips puckered, and breathing a bit faster than it was before you were introduced. She almost looks seething, something you pray to the absent God will go away during the dinner that was sure to be straight from the Devil’s ass.

Dinah seems to sense the queasiness in your stomach that is getting hard to quell. She smiles at you, a kind smile that reminded you of your mother.

“Well, have a seat dear. Don’t be to intimidated by us, I assure you, we are all just a little confused,” She says, glancing in Laurel’s direction when she says confused, “So, in order to clear up the confusion, why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

You breath a sigh of relief, you appear to have 1 of 3 over, now to work on the other two.

“Uh, there’s not too much to tell really, uh, I’m a freelance mechanic, I travel over the country with my brothers, Sam and Dean, and sometimes we pick up a family friend named Cas. I’m adopted. My mother was murdered when I was 6, and until fairly recent events, I didn’t really care about finding my father, but a friend who was dying of cancer who also didn’t know her father, said it was her biggest regret. That made me wonder if I really could live without at least knowing who my father was and that lead me here. So, yeah, that’s pretty much all you need to know about me. Oh, and I suck at cooking,” By the time you’re finished speaking everyone, even Quentin, is looking at you with wide eyes. Your eyes flick from face to face, “Too much information?” You ask, sort of shrinking into your seat.

“Just a smidgen, sweetheart,” Quentin tells you, holding up thumb, and pointer finger, about a half inch of space in between them.

Sara is the next one to break the semi-awkward silence, which you are very thankful for.

“So, where did you grow up?” She questions, picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip, an intrigued look on her face.

“Oh, all over really, we moved around a lot because of my adoptive father’s job, a freelance carpenter, but mostly in Sioux Falls, our Uncle Bobby lives there, he used to let us help him work on the cars in the junk lot he owned, Dean and I loved it, Sam, not so much, he was always the really bookish one in the family.”

“Yeah, he seems to be the nerd in the family,” Quentin adds to your statement, while chewing on a bred stick. Laurel’s eyes shift between you and her father, again that little twinkle of anger coming into her eyes.

“Oh, so you’ve met her family now?” She questions bitterness in her tone. The easy smile that had been on Quentin’s face at the that his daughters were all getting along so well, was quickly wipe off his face at that comment.

“Now, Laurel-” He starts. Laurel shoots up out of her chair, stark raving mad.

“Don’t you ‘Now, Laurel’ me! She just comes waltzing into our lives, and suddenly you’re all smiles, and laughs!? And you already met her family! Why can’t she just stay their with them and the Hell away from us?” She grabs her purse, and storms out of the apartment. The dinner table falls silent, you keep your gazing on your hands.

“I should probably go talk to her,” Quentin begins to rise out of his chair, that’s when you intervene.

“No, please, let me, it’s my presence that’s caused this mess.” You run out the door, and mange to catch up to Laurel not to far on the sidewalk. “Laurel! Laurel!” You call out for her. She turns her head to look at you, a bit of disgust on her face.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen to me please. I am not here to take your father away from you, I am not here to try and pull you family apart. I am not here to try and replace you in any way shape or form. You were the first daughter he raised, and from what he’s told me about you, he couldn’t be more proud of you. I am only here for a chance to know my father, and in return hopefully know my mother more. You never have to see me again if you don’t want too, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t but please, please don’t take it out on him, he is only trying to get to know the daughter he never knew about. The one who saw her mother murder in front of her, the one who has absolutely no idea what she’s doing in the kitchen, the one who has two big brothers. Believe me when I say, I can only dream of him having the look in his eye when he talks about me, as he does when he talks about you or Sara. Please, I know this is hard, but I am only asking for a chance to know who my father is, who my blood family is, because I’ve spent my whole life wondering, and I don’t want to wonder anymore.” You plead with her.

She gives you a small nod in return for your begging, that’s could enough for you, and you return to dinner. The rest of it goes fairly smoothly without Laurel, you learn a bit more about Sara, like the fact that she was missing for 5 years, yeah defiantly the reason your father has heard so many apologies in his life.

The cool night air blows through your hair as you walk back to your motel. Out of nowhere an arrow flies right past your head, making you come to a stop, you look in the direction the arrow came from to see the green donning vigilante standing on top of a car, oh did he pick the wrong person to shoot an arrow at. His bow still raised at you, you hear him speak for the first time, it’s low and distorted, like he’s trying to scare someone to death.

“What do you want with Detective Lance?” He questions you.

“I don’t want anything to do with Detective Lance, Quentin Lance is the one I care about.” You tell him, an unamused look plastered on your face.

“Why?!” He demands to know, coming toward you in threatening manor. You take your knee to his side, surprising him, before you bring his head down on your knee, effectively knocking him down.

“None of your damn business!” you shout at him, running off to your motel room.

“Told you she didn’t look like she was gonna go down easy.” Oliver hears Felicity’s voice in his ear.

“Yeah, I got that.” he replies while he lays there clutching is head from where you had smashed it against your knee. 'Nice move.’ He thought, before letting out a groan.


	6. The Most Awkward Day Ever.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver discovers just who you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I am so sorry that this chapter is so late! I kinda fell out of the grove with this story, and hit a block with it, but I'm back! I do have quite a few requests, so updates will probably be slow. I'm gonna try and work out an uploading schedule, so that things will be a bit more regular, so we'll have to see how that goes.

Oliver's first confrontation with you left him more confused than anything. Just who were you? How did you learn to fight? Why were you always staying in a shit motel? If you didn't want anything to do with the detective's work, then what did you want? He has these questions to get answers to, and many more.

He finds the answers to a few of them sooner than he thought he would. The next week in fact. He’s looking for Laurel, as he’s trying to stop her from going on a date with Sebastian Blood, who he thinks is the man in the mask running around dosing people with Mirakuru, when he walks into her favorite coffee house to see her siting with the women who is causing his thoughts to be filed with pestering questions.

You both look like you’re uncomfortable being in the others presence, but Laurel seems a bit more apprehensive than you were. You seem to be trying to make conversation and get to know her better, or at least accept your present without tensing.

You both let your gazes wonder around the café, trying to avoid eye contact with the other. The reason why you're so uncomfortable is unknown to him. Laurel spots him from across this room, and, for once, she looks happy to see him. 'Sheesh, this must really be awkward if Laurel is happy to see me,' Ollie thinks to himself.

“Ollie!” She calls out. Your head snaps over to where she is looking. You see Laurel sending him a somewhat distressed look, as she waves him over. The man, apparently named Ollie, comes over, and gives Laurel a friendly hug, with a pat on the back. It's a little awkward. The type of awkward that could only happen between to people who had dated, and didn't end the relationship on good terms.

She turns to you, a bit of a forced smile on her face and says,

“Oliver, this is my half sister, (Y/N),” she tells him. Her hand pointing at you. Oliver seems shocked to say the least. His eyes are wide and doubting, and again with the forced smiles, does nobody like you?

“Y-your half sister?” he asks in disbelief. Laurel sees an opportunity to get away from the awkwardness for a minute, and takes her shot.

“Yes, now, why don't you talk to her while I go to the bathroom.” She grabs her bag, and quickly moves to the bathroom, before Oliver can object.

Being left alone with Oliver is less tense than it was with Laurel, but it's even more awkward. He's grinning at you so wide that you're sure it hurts, and he's scratching the back of his ear, in an attempt to busy himself.

“So,” you start, “you and Laurel used to…?” You trail off. He seems to catch your drift, because he nods his head, and fumbles out,

“Yeah, yeah we, uh, we used to date.” A noise of acknowledgment comes from you.

“Not that it's any of my business, but why did you break up?” you ask, as you take a bite from the biscotti next to your coffee mug.

“Um, well, I kinda cheated on her with her sister, and, uh, disappeared for 5 years after our boat got shipwrecked in the North China sea.” He's rubbing the back of his neck, looking at anything but you. A sharp intake of air is heard, as you rise your eyebrows at him. A stunned “Oh” is all that you say to him.

“So, uh, what are you doing out with Laurel?” The question is innocent enough, but you feel there is a slight not of protectiveness, and suspicion in his voice, and that puts you on edge. But, you might as well answer honestly.

“Trying to make here like me. She, uh, didn't exactly take finding out she has an older sister well at dinner last week,” you reply as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Yeah, well, Laurel hates change. I'm sure she'll come warm up to you eventually,” he tells you, “Y-you seem to make Detective Lance happy, and once she realizes that, she'll at least tolerate you.” You're a little astonished at the fact that he doesn't seem to hate you.

“Th-thank you, Oliver,” you stutter. He smiles at you. A real genuine smile, and you can't help but smile back. The only people in Quentin's life that seemed to accept you were your littlest sister, Sara, and his ex-wife, so to have some one genuinely smile at you besides your father was quite the surprise. Laurel comes back out from the bathroom, apologizing profusely, saying she caught a call from her boss, and that he needs her back at the office immediately, and that you'd have to do this another time. You knew it was a bunch of bullshit, but you were rather exhausted yourself, so you let it slide.

You leave Oliver at the coffee house. His head is spinning, and his only thought is,

_“Oh, so that's who you are.” ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I figure the reader would be around 28 in this to make her the oldest of Quentin's girls, and the youngest of the Winchesters.


	7. A/N 2

No, this is not an update. Sorry. Although I do have the next chapter planned out in my head, and will hopefully get it done in the 5 hour car rides I have on Saturday and Sunday.

On another note, I need you're help. Do you want the reader's mom to have an actually name instead of, (Y/M/N)? If you do, can you please suggest some names down in the comment section. I plan on having her come into the story in the future. Thanks!

-Ace


	8. Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s just a rare peaceful night in the bunker when you get a disturbing phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't betaed so I'll fix my mistakes later. If you could make it any easier and ponit out any typos that would be very helpful!

For once the bunker was silent, save for the buzz of rock music coming from the garage where Dean's working on the impala. It's nice, but it feels weird, alien almost. It feels too safe. Like something horror-filled was going to jump out from behind your door and ruin this perfect night.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you start slightly. Sam lets out a chuckle from where he sits at the library table doing research. You glare at him from where you're curled up in an arm chair with the first book in the Harry Potter series. You hadn't read it in a long while, so it was like coming back and chatting with an old friend. Your phone buzzes again, you dig through your pockets to find it. The phone screen reads,

Incoming Call: Unknown Number.

“Unknown number...” You mumble to yourself, “Hello?” You ask, holding the phone up to your ear.

“(Y/N) Winchester,” You immediately recognized the demonic voice on the other end of the line to be a Lucifer loyalist you ran into a few months ago. You put the phone on speaker and motion to Sam to listen in. “If you ever want to see your father alive again, you'll come to the warehouse on 32nd street in Starling City, alone.” before you can respond the line goes dead.

Terror is in your eyes as you grab your jacket and run towards the garage. Sam quick to follow you.

“(Y/N), you can't be seriously going alone, that's suicide!” He shouts at you, for once struggling to keep up with your quick pace. You reach the garage as you respond,

“You bet your ass I'm going alone! I'm the one who dragged him into this mess! I should have just stayed away from him! God, this is all my fault!” Dean looks up from where he had been working on Baby, a concerned look on his face. Before he can even ask what's going on you're slamming the door to your truck and speeding out the door.

Now, he's really, really worried, he can still hear your tires squealing, you never treated your car badly. He looks to Sam who just sighs and rubs his hand over his face as he explains to Dean why you left so urgently. 

%%%%%%%

Thunder cracks over your head as you step out of your truck. There was no point in trying to be quiet. They knew you were coming. They were expecting you to be sticking to the shadows like usual. So, why not give them a surprise? You grab your bottle filled with holy water, and your angel blade, while mentally preparing the exorcism in your head.

You peek through a broken window and see your father strapped down to a wooden chair bound with rope in the center of the room. There are at least three demons just from what you can see in the dark warehouse. A light bulb is hanging down over your father's chair, he doesn't seem scared, just confused.   
You walk over to the door, take a deep breath, raise your leg, and,

BAM!

The door falls to the ground, bringing the demons attention to it. You twirl the angel blade in your hand as the demons eye it.

“Hello boys,” you taunt, a sly smirk on your lips.

“Y/N Winchester, in the flesh.” The demon closest to your father praises, holding his arms out at his sides, “Y'know, I've heard all the stories about you Winchesters. How you're all crazy. How you follow no moral code, to avoid you at all costs. But, seeing you in person, well, you're nothing but a demented little girl.” the demons chuckles. You smile at him, cock your head to the side, and place a finger on your chin pretending to think.

“Demented? Maybe. Little girl?” You plunge the angel blade into the demon who was “carefully sneaking up behind you. He shrieks as his skeleton glows, before falling to the ground, dead. “Definitely not.” 

The second demon leaps at you, but before he can reach you, you through holy water at him, causing his skin to steam, and sop him in his tracks. His hands hold his head, trying to make the pain stop as you roundhouse kick him in the head, and strike the knife into his back.

Your father looks at you with wide eyes, but you couldn't focus on him now. You had to focus on the sonvabitch that put you in this position. His eyes are dark, but have a certain spark of fear in them as he grips your father's throat.

“Come any closer and I snap his neck,” he threatens. You freeze, holding your hands in the air as a sign of surrender. Just when you think all hope is lost, an arrow comes flying from the shadows of the building, hitting the demon in the hand around Quentin's throat. He howls in pain, reflexively letting go of your father to clutch his hand. You take the opportunity to stab the sword through his stomach.

You hold your breath or a minute, waiting for something worse to happen, but thankfully it never comes. You hear a grunt come from behind you. You turn and run to your still gagged and bound father. You decide to un-gag him last, as you quickly cut the ropes tying him to the chair.

You quickly undo the knot tied at the back of his head to release the gag in his mouth. He rips it off of his head, and stands up out of the chair. He looks around the warehouse, taking in the damage you did. He eyes are wide with fear and what looks similar to awe. You are silent as you hear a body land on one of the crates in the warehouse, and jump down to the ground. The Arrow comes stalking out of one of he dark corners of the building. He stalks up to you, clearly pissed, and grabs you by the throat.

“YOU KILLED THEM,” he screams at you. Quentin yells at him to let you down, but he holds tight to your neck. You bang you fists on his arms, trying to get him to let you go. He loosens his grip a little so you can actually speak.

“They were already dead,” is your raspy voiced answer.  
He drops you to the ground. You sputter and cough, Quentin rushes over to you, rubbing your back as you regain the ability to breathe.

“What do you mean 'they were already dead'?!” Oliver shouts at you.

“I saw their pictures in the obituaries a few days ago, their bodies were possessed by demons. Did you not see the black eyes?!”

Your father seems to be a bit in shock at the news that the supernatural exists, as his eyes are wide with shock and his breathing is shallow, as he stares straight ahead. He snaps out of it, and his gaze returns to you.

“Just who are you?” There it is. The question that you always dreaded to answer, because it made everything change.

And so everything did.


	9. Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're gonna have to read it my dudes, cause this is an important one.

The drive back to the bunker is silent, save for the tears that slip pass your eyes. You should have seen this coming. How could you be so stupid to think that the people you loved wouldn't get hurt? 

Your brother's think the worst when you walk calmly into the bunker with your hair a mess, and tear tracks staining your face. They immediately surround you in a hug. You breakdown into their arms, ugly sobs leaving your lips.

“He's, he's alive,” You stutter out through your weeping, “I can just never see him again if I want him to stay that way.” You pull yourself from their hold, and turn to move to your room. You stop in the doorway only to say, “You were right, Dean. We are poison.”

It's been weeks since you left the bunker. You've ignored every call, text, and voice mail from your father. It's for the best, you'd only get them killed. That's what you tell yourself when you hear his vice pleading on the other end for you to come to back to Starling. Back to your sisters who you were actually starting to get along with. Back to him. 

Oh, how you wished to go back. For his warm brown eyes to welcome you in a returning hug. To hear his laugh when talked about your mother, or all the trouble your sisters gave him when they were little. To see his kind smile as he listen to you talk about all the people you've met in your travels. God, you missed it all.

But, no matter how much you missed him, you could never go back.

It's late at night, or rather really early in the morning when you finally start to go stir crazy from your weeks moping about in the bunker, so you head out side into the cool summer night air, a towel in tow. There's a little hill just behind the bunker, where there's the most wonderful view of the stars. It always clears your head, and calms your soul. You make the little climb up to the top and lay down the towel to lay on. The fireflies are out, and make the dew sparkle. You let yourself take deep breaths as you gaze up at the night sky.

The whiz of an arrow shooting through the air, and planting itself in a tree makes you shoot upright.

You smirk. You know exactly who it came from.

“You're way out of your territory, Oliver.” A green shadow steps out into the clearing. He walks toward you without saying a word. If you didn't know who he was, you would almost be intimidated. He pulls his hood down to reveal his face covered by a green mask. Without the hood, it's impossible not to know it's him.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I'm an outsider looking in. It's easy to tell when I don't know you,” is your response. Oliver sits beside you silently. Refusing to make eye contact with you, instead staring up at the stars.

“You know, he hasn't been the same. He's a lot more like he used to be, before you came into his life. He hasn't gone back to drinking, not yet anyway. He misses you,” he tells you. You really want to cry, you really do, but you don't allow yourself too. Not now. Maybe later, when you're alone again.

“I know he misses me. I miss him too. But I need to keep him safe. Keep him alive. My brother once said we were poison; I didn't believe him then, but I do now. How'd you find me? I don't remember giving out my address to anyone.”

“I put a tracker on you when I confronted you in the warehouse,' He says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “So, demons…” You snort in laughter.

“Oh, buddy you got no idea.” You fall into a silence looking up at the night sky that was slowly starting to fade into milky blues, pinks, and oranges.

“I think you're going to regret not going back. Because in the end we only regret the chances we didn't take.” He looks over to you as he says this, but you keep your eyes firmly on the stars that are slowly disappearing, going to hide under the cool colors of the pinky canvas as the sun takes over the sky.

“Why are you doing this, Oliver?” He sighs, and goes back to staring at the sunrise.

“Most of Quentin's pain is because of me. If there's something I can do to help with it, I owe it too him to try.”

“Alright.”

“Alright what?” he questions.

“I'll come back. On one condition, I join you and your team. I'll train you to fight the supernatural. Because if I'm going to stay, you're going to need it. Oh, and don't worry about me not being able to keep up, I have a third degree black belt in martial arts. It took me two months of constant nagging to get John to let me take that class too.”

“Deal.”

Looks like you were going back after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, thoughts, and ideas are very much appreciated!
> 
> (Seriously, I live off them.)


	10. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You move to an apartment in Starling City, and meet Team Arrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this up into two part purely because it was getting a little long for me, and I hadn't really thought through everyone's reactions that much.

The boxes tower around you, you huff a breath at the task before you. The steps of your feet echo around you as you walk around your new apartment. It’s fairly small, though not as small as a studio. You and your brothers had packed up some of all of your stuff and moved to Starling City. The plan was for you to spend half of your time here and the other half at the Bunker in Kansas. If you were going to be a part of “Team Arrow” as Dean so eloquently put it, you would have to have a home base here. Oliver had offered to put you up, but you refused saying that it would a little weird to live in a mansion with his family. He agreed, but said he would help you find a suitable apartment. And here you were.

Your brothers had just finished helping you carry the boxes up to the 4th floor. They were currently sitting on the hardwood floor, Dean eating the pie you promised him if he helped. Sam researching a case new by on the his laptop, how he had Wi-Fi when you hadn’t set yours up yet you would never know.

A crack of thunder resonates through the empty building, it was sure to be one hell of a storm when it finally broke. You plop down of the floor next to Dean. You grab a spoon and scoop up a bite of pie.

“Hey!” he looks at you indignantly. You shrug at him, an innocent look on your face.

“What? I’m the one that has to unpack all this stuff, I need sustenance, man!” He grumbles at you, but doesn’t argue when you take another bite.

You finish a piece before you sigh, and pull out your pocket knife to start unloading your boxes. You cut through the tape of a box marked “Hangers” And one marked “Clothes” If you’re being honest, it’s mostly flannels, and the occasional dressier item for fancier gatherings.

Just as you start to hang things up in your closets you phone buzzes, a notification popping up.

Oliver *Insert Crown Emoji Here*: Verdant. Half and hour. Ready to meet the team? :)

You: As ready as I’ll ever be.

You click send and sigh, looks like unpacking would have to wait. You tell the boys where you all will be going. They grumble about going to night club, but go along with it, anything for their little sister.

It’s 25 minutes later when you pull up to Verdant. Thea, Oliver’s little sister is waiting for you when you get to the door.

“Ah, you must be (Y/N) Winchester Laurel and Sara’s sister. Ollie told me you’d be coming,” She tells you as she lets you into the club. Inside there are people dancing all around you, a fully stocked bar with Sara manning it, she looks a little overwhelmed at the amount of people that are asking for drinks. You leave Sam and Dean to a few women who have already made their liking toward them quite clear with they way they were grinding against them.

You lean across they bar now that the throng of people has dispersed a bit.

“How ya doin', sis?” You ask her with a large grin on your face.

“(Y/N),” she shouts over the music, “How are you? Oliver told me you’d be joining our, um, nightly activities. Oh, god, that makes it sound like something sleazy!” She groans at her own wording. You giggle at her, and reply,

“Yep, still have to come up with a name, but I’ll be meeting the team tonight, along with my brothers. Tonight with either go fantastic, or horribly!


End file.
